


Shiny and New

by sparkinglovingheart



Series: Post Civil War Age-Play Fics [5]
Category: Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Age Play, Body Dysmorphic Disorder, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Infantilism, Nightmares, Non-Sexual Age Play, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Abuse, Post-Civil War, Thumb-sucking, Wetting, selective mutism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-06-04 10:27:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6654349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparkinglovingheart/pseuds/sparkinglovingheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wanda wants blue eyes. </p><p>It's not as simple as it sounds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shiny and New

**Author's Note:**

> Ehhhh, I don't like this. At all lol. I think mostly because I tried writing in a different tense and I'm not a huge fan of how it turned out. But hey *shrug* what are you gonna do.   
> Read the tags before you read on. There's a flashback of the abuse right at the beginning.

_It was so cold, it was always so cold. Like ice had taken ahold of her body and worked it’s way into her veins. The hands all over her were probably warm, but they felt like frozen stone. Maybe it was his voice. That had always chilled her. It was always the same._

_“Such an awful girl. Such a pretty little face.”_

_Wanda didn’t think she was pretty. She was starting to hate the way she looked more and more every day. She had never thought about it much before, but it occupied so many of her thoughts now. Maybe thinking about that was better. It was better than thinking about what happened at night. It was better than thinking about how much it hurt when he took off his belt and smacked her with it. It was better than the experiments and anything else that happened._

_“I’m a bad girl, I’m a bad girl, I’m a bad girl,” she whispered, even when he was gone. Even when he had finished with her and left her on the floor, only saying, “Remember, this is our secret, Wanda.”_

_“Yes, sir.”_

_“You don’t tell your brother, or he’ll be very angry at you. You cant’ tell anyone. You don’t want everyone to know what an awful girl you are, do you?”_

_No. Of course she didn’t. She was bad. Maybe she could be a little less so if she didn’t say anything._

 

                                                                                         ——————————————————————————

 

Today it’s hot out and Wanda’s dress, soft and light and pink, seems to float around her in the very slight breeze. It matches her pigtails and her shoes that have little bows on them. She has lipgloss too, that she’d put on when playing dress up earlier, but it’s getting a little smudged now that she’s sucking her thumb. She glances at her reflection in the store window they walk past and cringes. She still doesn’t like what she sees. It’s all wrong. Maybe if she cut her hair. Maybe if she had blue eyes instead of green. Maybe-

“Wanda?” Steve speaks, snapping her out of her reverie, “You doing okay, ladybug?”

She shrugs, “Daddy? Can you make my eyes blue?”

Steve frowns, “But you have green eyes, Wanda, and they’re beautiful. You don’t need anything different.”

“But _can_ you?” she presses, “Can you change them?”

“No,” he squeezes her hand, “And even if I could…well, I think you’re perfect the way you are.” 

Wanda doesn’t. Not at all. But she doesn’t say anything as they keep walking down the street. New York City is so busy that they just blend in with the crowd as long as they keep their heads down for the most part. That makes it safe for Wanda to dress up the way she wants to, to wear her hair the way her brother does it every morning-two pigtails tied with bows. One of them is coming a little loose and she reaches up to pull it tighter. 

“It’s good for me to get out like this,” Steve says, “Just on little walks, you know? It helps to clear my head. Thank you for coming with me, sweetheart.” 

“You’re welcome, Daddy,” she perks up, happy at the thought that maybe she makes him happy too. The thought that she’s satisfied someone, that it makes her worth something. 

She can’t be worth much, she realizes, not even if she makes him happy because she’s wet now and she’s pressing her legs together and looking down, and praying he doesn’t notice.

“I need to get you home, huh?” Steve squeezes her hand. He knows. He always knows.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” she whimpers, “I didn’t mean to.“

“Oh, baby girl, I know. It’s not a big deal. Don’t cry.” 

“I shouldn’t-”

“Hush. It is not your fault, Wanda. It’s okay.”

It is not okay. None of it is okay.

Wanda blinks at the store windows that they pass and wishes again that she had blue eyes. 

 

——————————————————————————

 

Steve helps her get changed and dressed again, trying to make quick work of it since he knows that it’s still a hard adjustment for her. Wanda knows that he knows, and it doesn’t stop the tears from falling.

“You need a nap, don’t you?” Steve murmurs as he ties the bow around the waist of her dress again, “Are you sleepy, ladybug?”

She starts to cry, “I don’t know.”

Steve stays calm, he’s always calm when this happens, “Oh, yes you are. You definitely need some quiet time. I’m going to go get Mommy, okay? She wanted to spend some time with you anyway.”

Wanda nods, and a small part of her is happy, because she wants to spend time with her mother too, but the rest of her is back in that room with the belt and the man and the words and nobody there to comfort her when it was over. 

And she so desperately wants shorter hair. Maybe a different color. Pink hair would be nice. Pink hair. Blue eyes. 

“Wanda?” Natasha’s hands, soft and cool are touching her face now, and her voice is telling her that everything is okay.

“Mommy,” is all she can manage back, _“Mommy.”_

“Shhh. Mommy’s here,” she strokes her hair, her brown hair, “моя бедная маленькая девочка. Did you have an accident? It’s fine, it’s no big deal.”

“I want to be a big girl,” Wanda whispers, “I don’t wanna be awful.”

“моя принцесса, you are not awful. You’re fine the way you are. And you’re a big girl in lots of ways. It’s okay to need help sometimes,” she presses her lips to the girl’s forehead, “You’re just a little overwhelmed right now.” 

Wanda doesn’t bother to wipe away her tears, she doesn’t have the energy, and she hates her eyes now anyway. Her eyes and her hair.

“I want pink hair, Mommy,” she says. 

Natasha laughs, “Oh, my silly girl. Your hair is beautiful the way it is.” 

Wanda wanted to tell her that she didn’t understand. She _needed_ new hair. Things would be different if she had pink hair. But the words weren’t coming out and she really just wanted to be held, so she didn't say anything as she snuggled into Natasha’s arms and sucked her thumb while they read a a story about kittens who mixed paint colors together. Wanda thinks that she usually love this story and now she can’t focus on it very well. Her eyes drift to Natasha turning the pages. Smooth, slender hands. 

New hands, she thinks, new hands would make things different.

 

——————————————————————————

 

Wanda draws herself with blue eyes, pink hair and new hands. She draws a house without windows for the other her to stay in.

“My house,” she says out loud.

“What’s that, Rebecca?” Bucky is sitting on the couch, watching TV and looks down at her. Wanda knows he’s having a Bad Memory Day. Bed Memory Days are when he calls her Rebecca. 

“My house,” she shows him, “See?” 

“Very nice. Do you live all by yourself?”

“Nu-uh. You too.”

“Oh, good. What about Mom and Dad?”

She knows they’re not talking about the same Mom and Dad, but she doesn’t really care either, “Anyone can live there.” 

“It doesn’t have any windows,” he points out, “Are those clouds in the sky?”

“No,” she says, “They’re boxes. I put them in the sky ‘cause that was the only place with room. Bucky, I want my boobs to be different.” 

Across the room, Pietro chokes on what he’s drinking, _“What?”_

Wanda immediately regrets saying anything and shrinks back, “Never mind.” 

“No, no, no. I heard you. You want your…why would you worry about that?”

“I just _do_!”

“Oh, baby,” in an instant, he’s got her in his arms, “I’m sorry, I didn’t-honey, you’re beautiful the way you are. Why would you want…want that to be different?”

She shakes her head and hides her face in his shoulder, sobbing, “I don’t know! I’m sorry-please don’t spank me!”

Now she can feel him almost flinch, “Wanda, when have I ever spanked you? You know I’d never lay a hand on you, angel.”

I _should_ know, she thinks. _I should know._

 

——————————————————————————

 

Wanda dreams again that night. She dreams about The Room. The castle that wasn’t like the one in Cinderella. The one where bad things happened.

When she snaps awake, wet, shaking, and crying in the dark, she at first can’t bring herself to call out for anyone. She forces herself out of bed and stumbles around because Lorna must have fallen at some point and now she must be scared all alone on the floor. She must bump into things and be a bit louder than she thought she was, because now light is switching on and Pietro has her in his arms again. 

“ _Brother,_ ” Wanda clings to him like he’s a life preserver, “I-I-”

“Did you have a bad dream, sweetheart?” his voice is soothing and he is strong, one of the strongest people she knows.

“Shhh, my angel, shhh. It wasn’t real,” he tells her, “It was just a nightmare, kitten. Come on, I’ll get you dry and I’ll sleep with you the rest of the night. We shouldn’t have had you on your own anyway.” 

Wanda still wishes for blue eyes and pink hair, new hands, a bigger chest, and anything else that would make it different. She lets her brother change her clothes, trying to let her sobs be soothed by his gentle shushes and comforting whispers. She tries not to shake too much when he has her in his lap and is rocking her back and forth.

“My angel,” he whispers to her as he strokes her hair and holds a sippy cup up to her mouth so she can drink easier, “The light of my life. My beautiful little sister.”

Wanda doesn’t say anything. Both hands reach around the cup and her eyes close, tears still falling down her cheeks. Pietro keeps rocking her and murmuring, sometimes singing the lullabies that always calm her down or make her giggle. 

He knows these things. He’s taken care of her on his own for ten years. Pietro always knows how to make it better by singing songs in Romani, stroking her hair and kissing her tear stained cheeks, whispering, “I love you, draga.”

Wanda reaches up to touch his face gently. She’s almost asleeep now.

“I wouldn’t change a thing about you.”

And Wanda wishes again. For blue eyes, pink hair, new hands, a bigger chest, everything different. 

**Author's Note:**

> [ The book Natasha reads Wanda is The Color Kittens.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Color_Kittens)
> 
> моя бедная маленькая девочка=my poor little girl
> 
> моя принцесса=my princess
> 
> draga=sweetheart
> 
> Thanks for reading! <3


End file.
